Little solace comes to those who grieve when thoughts keep drifting as walls keep shifting and this great blue world of ours seems a house of leaves moments before the wind.

The finest act of seeing is necessarily always the act of not seeing something else.

At the heart of any terror is the fear of losing what we find meaningful.

I still get nightmares. In fact, I get them so often I should be used to them by now. I'm not. No one ever really gets used to nightmares.

My hands resemble some ancient tree: the roots that bind up the earth, the rock and the ceaselessly nibbling wordms.

Maturity, one discovers, has everything to do with the acceptance of ‘not knowing.

Anger is one way to respond to fear. I say one way because responses are categorically multiple.